


muse

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Multi, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, art school au, coffee shop AU, someone take me to the garbage can where i belong, why am i writing this, yknow probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 23:23:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10398459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "just go talk to them, lance.""no, they'll think i'm creepy!""they'll be flattered. now go."Lance McClain, photography major, Casanova.A charming boy, really.[art school/coffee shop au]





	

**Author's Note:**

> yes hello children it is i, returned with another fic but this one is probably going to be slow burn maybe who knows

Eight A.M. classes were hell.

Waking up at seven or sometimes even six to get ready was unpleasant, to say the least.

Lance was tired. Lance was exhausted, really, and there was nothing he wanted to do more than roll back over on Hunk's couch and go to sleep.

Apparently, fate— and Hunk, the disgusting morning person— had other plans.

He was woken up with a noise like a whip (or, you know, something less dramatic than a whip) as Hunk apparently flipped a frying egg over in its pan. The sizzling noises were unignorably tempting, and so he rose.

Pale grey light broke through the wide windows, sheer curtains hardly doing anything to block it out. A small potted plant that Lance couldn't identify from his limited knowledge of botany. He shrugged it off, dragging his feet to the tiny apartment's tinier kitchen. The blanket Hunk gave him lay unused on the ground. He would just end up kicking it off anyways.

"Mornin', Lance," Hunk practically sang. Lance grunted something in reply.

A plate piled with various foods that Lance couldn't tell apart— besides the single, perfect-looking egg on he side— was plunked on the table in front of him. It may not have looked very distinctive, but it did look good.

He shoveled food into his mouth quickly as he could, nearly choking.

Hunk gave him an alarmed look. "Slow down."

He did.

They finished eating— it was delicious, as usual— and Lance left the apartment, getting into his battered old car and heading towards the campus.

He knew he shouldn't have signed up for that Goddamned class. He knew it, but he did it anyway. He regretted it immensely.

The class was seventy minutes long— just long enough for Lance to lose track of time and feel that he'd been there for days.

Lance had several other classes to go to that day, but none of them before ten A.M. As luck would have it, neither did Hunk or Pidge or Shiro or Keith. So, naturally, the suggestion to go That Coffee Shop came up.

That Coffee Shop, of course, was the one that most of the exhausted, overworked college students in the area frequented, worked at, or both. He didn't know its actual name, and he doubted anyone else did. Mostly, it was just referred to as—'you guessed it— That Coffee Shop.

They sat, the massive bunch (sans Lance), at one of the larger tables. It was directly next to a wall-length window. The mid-morning light was bright, and the shop smelled richly of fresh-ground coffee beans.

Pidge, of course, was the first to notice them. They spoke to a customer with a smile that she couldn't identify as false or true, but they certainly looked more tired, more stressed than they did back in the park the week before.

And Pidge, of course, being Pidge, pointed them out with a devilish grin. "Hey, isn't that-"

"Oh, God, it is," said Hunk.

The two filled in Keith and Shiro, who looked understandably confused. Shiro took a sip from his steaming cup. (Keith preferred iced coffee, and drank from that.)  
A rather loud chime from the door's bell sounded as Lance strode in, taking a seat between Shiro and Hunk. They greeted him, all looking... strange. He couldn't put his finger on it.

"So, Lance.."

"We hear that you took a photo of someone in the park?"

Lance shot Pidge and Hunk a Look.

"Well, guess who that is? Them, behind the counter-"

Lance, a feeling of dread growing in him, turned to look.

"God _damn_ it."

"Get up, Lance, go!"

"C'mon, go, go talk to them-"

"You've got this, come on."

"Just go talk to them, Lance."

"No, they'll think I'm creepy!"

"They'll be flattered. Now go!"

Egged on by the four he called his friends, he somewhat reluctantly walked over to the counter. They gave him a winning smile. "Hey, welcome. How can I help you?"  
His mind went blank, and so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Hey, I'm- God, this is going to sound creepy- so, I, a few days ago, you were in the park, right? I- uh, I saw you there and I maybe might have, um, taken a photo of you but I swear I'm not stalking you or anything, it's just that I'm a photography major and you see the lighting was perfect and I just took the picture out of reflex and I can delete it if you want-"

They looked slightly confused, slightly alarmed, and almost said _Sir, I'm not sure what you mean, I just work here, you must have me mistaken for someone else_ before it clicked in their head. They did recognize him, that was for sure, and they were fairly certain where they recognized him from- the park, a few days ago, like he'd said. They took a glance towards the table he'd come from and recognized two more of them- a short girl with glasses and a taller guy who looked more sturdily built. The other two, however, they didn't know.

They returned their gaze to him, trying to put a smile on their probably-bewildered face and replied, "No, I understand! It's fine, don't worry about it. Feel free to keep the photo, I don't mind."

A look of relief washed over Lance's face before he decided _alright, time for the grade-A flirting tactics._  
"So, who took the stars and put them in your eyes?"

His eyes widened- oh, God, they beat me to it- and he felt warmth rush to his face. He tried desperately not to stutter. He failed.  
They laughed. "Anyways, looks like your friends are leaving. Here," they said, handing him a slip of paper with a phone number on it (when had they written that? He hadn't noticed), "call me sometime."

He took the paper, ears and cheeks still red, nodded, and stumbled over a goodbye.  
Lance caught up with the four, eyes averted, and suffered through laughter, pats on the back, and a loud "Nice going, Casanova!"

God, he was going to regret this.

**Author's Note:**

> lmao bye this is trash
> 
> headcanons:
> 
> > lance is amazing when he's the first to flirt but if he's flirted with, he kinda. Dies inside  
> > shiro is the only one who genuinely likes hot coffee. keith is disgusted  
> > keith likes iced coffee, pidge drinks coffee-infused hot chocolate, hunk likes fruit smoothies, and lance likes mochas and lattes


End file.
